Page 32 of SEAL the Deal
He watched as they manhandled TJ into the cage and locked it with a thick chain.
“You keep watch. I’m going to call Carter.” Jabba waddled back inside.
Rick now knew there was a phone in the cabin. He just needed to come up with a plan to lure the yokels away, immobilize Jabba, and free the guys. Not too hard a job for a SEAL.
“Hey, you guys better let us go!” The voice was Dean’s. He stood, gripping the bars. “These guys are Navy SEALs and there’s still another one out there.”
“Dean, shut the hell up,” mouthed Rick as Mike grabbed his brother and silenced him.
The taller of the two, with the deep voice, strode across to the makeshift prison and aimed his shotgun at them. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, shut the hell up.”
The second man bashed on the door of the cabin. “Travis, there’s another one out there.”
Jabba reappeared and stared out into the plantation with beady eyes. “Carter’s sending up the boys. If there’s another one we’ll find him.”
Rick’s heart skipped a beat. He needed to get the hell out of the park and find help ASAP. He wiggled backward into the plantation. First things first he had to orientate himself and locate the track out of the park. Pushing out of the dope farm into a clearing he searched the sky. Finding the big dipper he traced a line through the top two stars to the North Star. Now at least he knew which way to go.
ChapterTen
Rick pushed through thick vines cursing under his breath as he extracted himself from their clutches and checked his watch. He’d been moving uphill for the better part of five hours. Sitting in a clearing he wiped the sweat from his brow. Surely he should have hit the fire trail by now. In the starlight he noticed that the clearing extended away from him to the west. A turn of his head confirmed it did the same in the opposite direction. Finally, he’d found TJ’s damn track.
He rested for a moment longer and then started off along the overgrown trail. Without the thick undergrowth he was able to break into a slow jog. The chafing from his wetsuit restricted his movement to more of a fast hobble.
As he jogged he ran through his plan in his head. He would get to town, alert the local authorities, and of course Ali, and then contact his boss, Commander Conner. The SEAL officer had contacts in the DEA. They would sort these pot-growing hicks out in no time.
Fixated on justice he almost missed the distant snarl of a small engine. There was a flash of lights and Rick leaped off the track into the bushes. Seconds later the first of two buggies roared past. In the headlights of the second vehicle he spotted a bloodhound sitting in the bed of the ATV. Other buggies raced past with more men, some wielding firearms. Jabba had assembled a posse of hunters.
Rick now faced a major dilemma. If he stuck to the track the dogs would be able to easily sniff him out and the buggies run him down. As much as he hated the thought he needed to use the cover of the woods.
A glance at the sky identified the North Star and orientated him. Then he shoved his way into the bushes and started walking. Behind him he heard the buggies roaring into the distance.
* * *
Mike and the others sat huddled together in the filthy cage in an attempt to keep warm. The rubber of their wetsuits gave them a little insulation, but not enough to ward off the temperature drop that came with early dawn.
All four men turned when the sound of engines reached them. They watched as two ATVs arrived at the front of the cabin. Gun-toting hicks climbed from the vehicles and reported to Travis, the obese caretaker. A dog gave a long howl from the back of one of the buggies.
“I’m sorry guys,” managed Dean between chattering teeth. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”
TJ grasped his shoulder. “Not your fault, bud.”
They listened as Travis addressed his posse of four gunmen. “Good thing y’all got here quick. Because we got ourselves a major problem.” He gestured to cage. “These assholes stumbled on the crop. They’ve got government written all over them. There’s one more out there trying to get out of the park.” He held up a life vest. “Carter wants him alive.” Tossing the flotation device to the men he waddled back inside the cabin.
One of the men released the bloodhound from the Polaris. It jumped down and sniffed the vest.
“Oh shit,” murmured Mike.
The dog let out a howl and dashed toward the cage. It sniffed the air, circled and then darted into the drug plantation. A moment later it let out a blood-curdling bay.
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Dean.
“It means he’s got Rick’s scent,” Mike whispered.
“He’ll get away, though, right?” asked Dean.
“Damn straight he will,” said TJ.
“He’s a SEAL essé,” he’ll run rings around these yokels,” added Ernie.
